


can't stop lookin' at you

by runaways



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runaways/pseuds/runaways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wears little red shorts. Louis is quite fond of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't stop lookin' at you

Louis has always had a _thing_ for Harry’s thighs, and the little red shorts that Corden has him wearing are certainly not helping matters.

He adjusts himself discreetly, half-hard in his shorts, trying to force himself to think about anything else, look anywhere else. The dodgeball skit they’re doing seems to be going on for days, Louis quickly growing impatient and frustrated.

They barely get into the dressing room before Louis is crowding into Harry’s space, already bordering on desperate.

“Nice shorts,” Louis mutters, hands going straight to Harry’s thighs. Harry exhales shakily as Louis palms his way up his inner thigh, gently groping at him where he’s still soft in his pants. His dick gives a twitch as Louis cups his hand around it, pressing down lightly.

 “Get a damn room!” Niall yells from the couch, glaring at them over the top of his phone, already changed out of his shorts and tank top.

Louis rolls his eyes overdramatically, keeping Harry’s dick under his palm, where it seems to be getting harder with each passing second.

He’s not going to stop groping Harry now. Just on principle.

“We _are_ in a room, Nialler.” Louis shoots back at him, snarky. He loves Niall, but he also loves pushing his buttons. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Harry starts tugging him out of the room as Niall begins looking earnestly huffy.

“Looks like you’ll be missing the show today Niall!” Louis winks as he lets Harry lead him away.

 

Harry’s properly hard in his shorts by the time they find an empty room, immediately latching onto Louis and pressing their lips together, grinding eagerly forward. Louis’ hands immediately go to his ass, cute and perky in those damn red shorts, dick pressing up against Louis.

“You really want this, don’t you?” Louis mutters into his mouth, Harry groaning in response.

“Over here, love.” Louis says, directing Harry to the couch on the other side of the room. Harry sits down on the couch, waiting expectantly. His lips are already swollen and pink from being kissed, eyes glazed over and looking wildly up at Louis. His mop of hair curls down past his shoulders, tucked carelessly behind one ear, starting to frizz up a little on the top.

Louis’ gaze moves down to the things that put him in this position in the first place. Those tiny red shorts. Of course Harry had to pick out the smallest size possible, claiming he likes the way they make his ass look and he wants to show off his new tattoo. Louis runs his thumb over the tattoo gently.

He has to admit he’s more interested in his ass.

Tired of just looking, Louis plops down onto Harry’s lap, thighs bracketing either side of his hips. A jolt of lust shoots up Louis’ spine as he feels Harry’s dick, hard and insistent, pressing up against his ass, suddenly overcome with the need to have it inside him.

That isn’t the goal today though. No, when Louis saw Harry in those shorts, he knew immediately that the focus was going to be on him.

He starts tugging at Harry’s tank top, Harry immediately yanking it up over his head and moving to pull off Louis’ too. Louis strokes his thighs, listening for Harry’s uneven breathing.

“Love these shorts on you, babe.” Louis mumbles, palming Harry’s dick through the shorts. “Make me wanna fuck your thighs.”

Harry sucks in a breath, hips coming off the couch in a little thrust. “Yeah? You wanna do that?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes as Harry surges forward and kisses him, pulling him as close to him as possible. Louis is properly hard now, chasing the friction when he feels Harry’s dick against his, hard through layers of clothing. Harry’s hands start to yank on Louis’ shorts, Louis finally giving in and standing up to take them off himself, throwing off his underwear too, for good measure. His shorts have barely hit the ground before Harry’s on his knees, sucking Louis’ cock into his mouth. Louis groans and tries his hardest not to thrust forward into Harry. _He’s almost too much sometimes_ , Louis thinks as he looks down. Harry’s watching him almost unblinkingly, eyes glassy and wide, the prettiest shade of green Louis has ever seen.

Sometimes getting his dick sucked makes him get pretty soppy.

As good as Harry’s lips feel around him, suckling lightly as his tongue does some godforsaken thing on the underside of his dick, Louis fists his hand in Harry’s curls and pulls him off. He keeps his grip in Harry’s hair, noticing the flush working its way onto Harry’s cheeks as he pulls. “That’s enough, don’t wanna come yet. Can you get on the couch?”

Harry scrambles to do so, lying back with his head cushioned against the armrest. He’s looking at Louis so eagerly, as if he’s two seconds away from demanding that Louis touch him. Louis can see his dick straining through the shorts, leaving a wet spot.

Louis starts looking around for something they can use for lube. Usually dressing rooms have some sort of beauty stash, a lotion or two. He tears through some cabinets and grabs the first one he sees, some kind of lavender scented lotion in a bottle far too fancy for what they’re planning on doing. Louis kneels on the couch where Harry is laid back waiting, looking like he’s barely breathing in anticipation. He squeezes some of the lotion into his hands, smoothing it onto Harry’s thighs. Louis can’t help but admire the feel of his skin under him, the sheen that the lotion is giving his thighs. He takes Harry’s legs by the shins and pushes his legs upward, so his ankles are near his face, nearly folded in half.  

At least all that yoga Harry does is good for something.

“Look so fucking good babe,” Louis says, reaching down to fist his cock, still slightly wet from Harry’s mouth. “Can you put your thighs together?”

It’s tough getting the angle right, trying to get in a position on a small dressing room couch that’s comfortable for both of them. Harry lies with his legs up in the air, face serious despite how funny the position looks. Louis runs his hand down one leg, savoring the warmth of his skin. He guides his cock in between Harry’s thighs, Harry immediately pushing them tighter together around Louis. He groans as he feels them close around him, snug and warm and _so_ smooth. Louis watches his dick slide back and forth with each thrust, feeling the slick drops of his precome smear on Harry’s thighs. He grips onto his legs tightly, watching his fingers dig into Harry’s supple flesh.

For someone so lanky, Harry really does have amazing thighs.

His movements are already becoming erratic, turned on by the simple image of his dick sliding between Harry’s thighs, the way they jiggle slightly with every thrust. He looks up to see that the flush on Harry’s face has spread to his chest, where he’s absentmindedly playing with his nipples, staring at Louis’ cock intently. He reaches forward and lightly touches the head of Louis’ cock as it thrusts toward him, peeking out at him from between his thighs. Louis jerks, overwhelmed by the feeling of Harry’s finger touching his wet slit.

“You gonna come?” Harry asks, finally looking up at Louis’ face. His voice sounds rough, wrecked. “You gonna come all over my thighs? Get my shorts all dirty?”

Louis is coming before he can even take his next breath.

The look of his come streaked over Harry’s thighs, his shorts, all the way up to his stupid butterfly tattoo, is so hot that he wishes he were hard again. The pearly white of his come matches the white of Harry’s inner thighs, where it’s starting to drip down and get onto the couch. Louis can’t be damned to care.

“Good thing we already did the dodgeball bit,” Harry says slowly, grinning with a pointed look at his shorts. “You really _did_ get my shorts dirty.”

“Yeah yeah,” Louis replies quickly, moving to pull them off him.

Although it’s barely had any attention paid to it, Harry’s dick is pink and rock hard, curving up against his belly. Louis has never been quite able to understand it, but knows that the chase is the best part for Harry, the part that gets him off the hardest. The waiting. The anticipation.

With that in mind, he ducks down, pressing kisses into Harry’s thighs. Harry’s back arches as he bites down, sucking a love bite into his skin. He pulls back and admires his work, a small red blotch that is bound to bruise purple by the next day. He continues to suck love bites into Harry’s thighs, listening to Harry moan and try to fist his hands in the cushions underneath him. His skin is tender under Louis’ lips, giving, and so, so warm.

Louis finally softly sucks Harry’s balls into his mouth. Harry exhales like he’s been punched in the gut, all the air leaving him at once. Louis licks up his dick; stopping to suck on the head, tongue teasing. He pulls off with a pop, looking up to where Harry is watching him through bleary eyes.

“Hands and knees,” Louis orders gently, sitting up to give Harry enough room to turn over. Harry waits, ass in the air and head in his arms, breathing sounding ragged. Louis admires the sight, rubs a hand across one of his cheeks, giving it a light slap, admiring the slight jiggle of it and the groan emitted from Harry. Louis knows he’s usually the one with the ass that people notice, but he thinks that Harry’s is severely underappreciated. Small and round. Cute.

Louis presses a kiss to the curve where his ass meets his thigh, leaving another love bite, making Harry’s dick jerk against his stomach. His stubble is scratching into Harry’s thighs, leaving them slightly pink, sensitive. He moves up to press sloppy kisses along Harry’s crack, wondering how long he can continue before Harry starts begging for it.

His answer comes moments later as Harry squirms underneath him, muttering, “Louis, please?”

Louis doesn’t need to be told twice - at least not for this. He spreads Harry’s cheeks, full in his small hands, and swipes his tongue over Harry’s hole, savoring the little breathy moan Harry lets out. Harry’s moans grow louder, muffled into the couch as Louis continues licking around his rim, faster and more thorough as time goes on, Louis’ chin growing wet with his own spit. He points his tongue and buries it in Harry, feeling the entrance of his hole flex around him, trying to get as deep inside as he can. Harry’s starting to sweat, curls damp at the base of his neck, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips back against Louis’ face, needing more, needing him deep. Louis’ cock twitches, seeming to have finally recovered from Harry’s thighs, beginning to get hard again.

Louis’ fingers push into the flesh of Harry’s ass, still pulling his cheeks apart. There’ll probably be marks there by morning, left from his fingernails digging in. Louis likes marking up Harry almost as much as Harry likes getting marked.

Louis can tell when Harry’s getting close, his whines getting more insistent, his hips jerking and back arching. “Lou-“ He moans into the couch, fists clutching the armrest, looking for something to hold onto.

Louis redoubles his efforts with his tongue, switching between licking broad strokes around Harry’s entrance and poking inside, as he reaches forward to get a hand around his cock. It only takes a few strokes of Harry’s dick and he’s coming into Louis’ hand with a shout. The tension releases from his body, and he collapses onto his stomach on the couch, sweaty and spent. Louis gets up to look for a tissue to wipe Harry’s come off with, though the room absolutely reeks of sex and everyone is bound to figure out what happened there regardless.

Harry seems to have fallen asleep by the time Louis gets his hand clean, face turned to the side and little puffs of air coming from his lips. Louis digs his fingers into his still-damp curls, pushing them off his face. “Harry, we have to get going.”

Harry mumbles incoherently, turning his face into Louis’ hand, eyes still shut. Louis gives a little tug on his hair, gentle enough to not alarm him, but enough for Harry to crack an eye open and glare at him.

“C’mon, clothes on, Harry.” He says, turning to follow his own advice, pulling his underwear on again. There’s only so long they can disappear before someone comes looking for them, after all.

After several seconds, Harry sits up with a yawn. He reaches down to pick his come-stained shorts up off the floor, smirking.

“I don’t think James is gonna want these back.”

-

 

also on [tumblr](http://tomlinships.tumblr.com/post/119171021846/cant-stop-lookin-at-you-runaways)!


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